


The One Where Benny Adopts A Cat

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, And doesn't realize that his boyfriend is actually a cat, Dean Has a Cat Allergy, Familiar Castiel, Just a cute little Halloween AU, Kissing, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Witch Dean Winchester, but not really, kind of a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: There's a stray cat sitting on the fire escape, and Benny takes him in for the month.  Dean meets a hot guy at the coffee shop, and they start to go out.  The coffee creamer keeps mysteriously disappearing, and Dean is getting fed up.  Benny just wants to dress his cat up for Halloween.  And Dean doesn't know that he's a witch. Or that his boyfriend is his familiar.





	The One Where Benny Adopts A Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This went on for way longer and took way longer to write than I had ever expected. But I'm super happy with the way it turned out and also glad I was able to finish it before Halloween was over! So, anyway... I hope you guys enjoy this spoopy little fic I wrote here.
> 
> Happy Halloween!

The last time he checked, Dean is pretty sure black cats are an omen of death.  And yeah, these days lots of people own black cats as house pets, so of course not all those people are cursed to meet an untimely death.  But Dean doesn’t own a cat (is, in fact, highly allergic to the pompous little fuckers) and he certainly doesn’t remember having one in his apartment before he left for the shop this morning.  Yet there he is, a sleek, black cat perched atop the kitchen table and swishing his tail back and forth, watching Dean with wide, scrutinizing blue eyes.  Yeah, Dean is pretty sure this is a death omen.

“Benny!” Dean yells, not moving from his spot in the kitchen, not wanting to take his eyes off the ct.  If video games and horror movies had ever taught Dean anything, it was not to take your eyes off the enemy.  Even if the said enemy was now leisurely licking his paw, grooming behind his ears.  When his call garnered no response, Dea let out an exasperated huff and cupped his hands around his mouth, bellowing.   _ “Benny!!!” _

“What?” Benny cries back from the other room, and a few seconds later stomps into the kitchen, headphones slung around his neck and video game controller clutched in his hand.  He looks Dean up and down with bugged eyes, obviously confused when he sees that Dean is perfectly alright.  “Why’re you screaming, brother?  I was just in the living room.”

Dean doesn’t say a word, pointing ominously over Benny’s shoulder, at the cat.  He’s now lying down on his side, paws stretched out around a banana as he gnaws at the skin.  Benny scoffs, stepping forward and reaching out to snatch the banana away.  The cat lets out a discontented  _ mewr! _ and swats at Benny’s hand halfheartedly, but other than that makes no effort to move or get up.  Dean lets out an  ignominious squeak as Benny hoists the cat into his arms, cradling him against his chest and tickling him behind the ear.

“S’just a kitten, brother,” Benny chuckles.  “I found him outside this morning, scratchin’ at the fire escape.  Not sure how he got up there, but it was chilly and I couldn’t leave him.  Turn out he’s kind cuddly.”  He grins as the cat leans into him, purring softly and thumping his tail against Benny’s arm.  “You wanna hold him?”

“I’m allergic to cats, Benny.” Dean says sourly, crossing his arms over his chest.  He feels stupid now for being scared of the obviously harmless cat, currently purring loudly in Benny’s arms and licking some sort of dried food-sauce out of his beard.   _ Gross. _  “I’m glad that you two are getting along so well, but we can’t keep him here.”

Benny actually pouts at that.  “You never said nothin’ in the roommate agreement about not having pets here.”

“We don’t even have a roommate agreement,” Dean rolls his eyes.  “But if we did,  **‘NO PETS ALLOWED’** would be written in bold letters at the top.  Just bring him down to the shelter, there are plenty of other cats there and he can make some friends or something,” Dean trudges past Benny and into their cramped little kitchen, grabbing a soda and some leftover Chinese food from the fridge.  He can feel Benny’s and the cat’s eyes on him, but he ignores them in favor of watching his dinner spin around and around in the microwave.

“You’re kidding, right?” Benny argues.  “I can’t bring him to the shelter.  He’s a black cat and it’s October.  Some freak’ll adopt him and sacrifice him to the Devil!” The cat bristles at Benny’s loud, ominous words, body stiffening and hair standing up on end.  He hops out of the man’s arms and darts out of the kitchen, down the hallway.  Dean scowls.

“You better not go into my bedroom, you little shit!” he yells.  Benny rolls his eyes.

“Dude, he can’t understand you, he’s just a cat. Now please, just let us keep him for the month.  November 1st I’ll take him right down to the shelter and you’ll never have to see him again.  And I can buy you your allergy meds in the meanwhile.”

Dean breathes deeply through his nose, letting out a little harumph and crossing his arms over his chest.  He can’t even think of a decent excuse to say no to Benny’s offer, and he’s pretty sure ‘I don’t like cats’ is  _ not  _ going to cut it.  Not when benny seems so hell bent on keeping the little fucker.  He sighs deeply and shakes his head, turning his attention back to the microwave and his lukewarm chicken lomein. 

“Fine.  But if I find  _ one  _ turd--”

“You ain’t gonna find any turds, shut up,” Benny laughs, reaching out and snagging a water chestnut from Dean’s bowl.  He pops it into his mouth with a crunch and walks away, presumably back to the livingroom to return to his video games.  Dean rolls his eyes and forks himself a generous bite full of lomein, trying not to think about the stuffy little furball slinking around their apartment somewhere.  October is only 31 days, anyway.  How bad can it be?

·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

Dean’s allergy meds make him drowsy, which makes him fall asleep on the couch after work, which means that the cat--which Benny has taken to calling Feathers, after an unfortunate incident with a blue jay on the fire escape--is always trying to curl up on his chest while he sleeps. Which means that Dean’s clothes have been perpetually covered in cat hair since Benny took the fluffy mongrel into their home, and he’s starting to develop a rash. It’s very unpleasant, to say the least.

So Dean is already in a bad mood when he wakes up from his afternoon nap and discovers, halfway through making a cup of coffee, that they are out of creamer.  Again.  He growls and slams the refrigerator door shut, dumping an extra spoonful of sugar into his cup before taking a tentative sip.  Even with the added sugar it’s still bitter, and with an indignant sigh Dean pours the coffee down the sink drain and grabs his keys from the counter and trudges to the door.  He’ll just to have to pick up a cup of coffee on his way to the grocery store.

He’s careful opening the door, making sure Feathers isn’t hiding anywhere that he might dart out and try to escape.  It’s happened more than once, and the experience of tracking the little shit down had not been a pleasant one, nor one Dean wanted to repeat any time soon.  

Luckily, Feathers doesn’t seem to be around right now, so Dean has no trouble slipping out of the apartment and down the hall.  He whistles as he walks, twirling his keys around and around on his index finger.  He takes his phone from his pocket, tapping out a quick message to Benny and asking if they need anything from the store besides creamer.  

It’s almost two in the afternoon, so there aren’t many people loitering around the small cafe on the first floor of their building.  Mainly, there’s an old woman enjoying a buttered croissant and a little cup of tea sitting by the window, and another guy, about Dean’s age and looking like he might have just stepped out of a freaking Tardis, standing by the fixings-bar actually drinking shots of creamer.  Dean raises his eyebrows at the sight and steps up to the counter, smiling easily at the usual barista, his friend Jo.

“Large caramel latte, no whip,” he leans closer, hooking his thumb in the direction of the fixings-bar and raising his eyebrows. “What’s with the weird dude in the trenchcoat?”

Jo scribbles Dean’s order onto a cup and hands it to her stepbrother Ash, who announces it will “be right up” and shoots Dean a wink before turning his attention back to the counter.  Jo shrugs.

“I dunno, he’s a nice guy.  Been comin’ in almost every day this month, actually.  Always orders the same thing, a tuna melt on rye and asks for an empty cup.”

“He’s doing shots of creamer over there,” Dean whispers, glancing over at the man to see he is now pouring the creamer shots into a small cup he’s placed on the counter.  He and Jo pause to watch the man together for a few seconds before Jo shrugs again, tapping at the digital screen in front of her and holding her palm out in front of her expectantly.

“Dunno why it’s botherin’ you so much.  Maybe he just likes milk,” she wiggles her fingers, “That’ll be three-seventy-two, Dean-o.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles, finally turning his attention away from the strange man and digging into his front pocket for some change.  He slaps a five dollar bill onto the counter and tells Jo to keep the change, taking his coffee from her with a sweet smile and heading over to the fixings-bar.  He’s not sure why he’s even going over there; he never adds anything to his coffee when he gets it from the cafe.  But before he can stop himself he’s already arrived at the bar and is standing next to the strange man as he continues to dump two creamers at a time into his cup.

“Hey, can you-- uh, you wanna pass me a creamer?” Dean mutters, fingers shaking as he takes the little capsule of milk the man offers.  Fuck, this guy is even more attractive up close than he was from far away.  His hair is dark, messy and windswept, and he has these bright blue eyes that frickin’  _ glow  _ when he looks up at Dean.  Dean finds himself smiling shyly, and he nearly drops the creamer as he fumbles awkwardly to get it open.

“Do you need assistance?” And holy shit, this guy’s voice sounds like he gargles gravel on the regular.  That should not be as hot as it is, and Dean coughs, shaking his head.

“Naw man, I got it,” he answers, and finally he’s able to wrestle the creamer shot open, but he was holding it too tightly and the contents of the shot spray all over the counter and the other man.  Dean gasps sharply, but the man only chuckles, wiping a dollop of creamer from his cheek and sucking it right off his finger.  Dean’s heart nearly stops in his chest.

“Oh, jeez,” Dean exclaims after a few seconds of delay, reaching out to snatch up a handful of napkins from the bin next to the sugar packets.  He glances back at the register, where he can see Jo and Ash both snickering as they watch the situation unfold.  Dean scowls and turns back to the man, thrusting a handful of napkins in his face and beginning to try to pat his clothing dry where the milk had splattered.  The man watches him curiously, making no move to stop him but squinting at him nonetheless.  “Sorry about that, man.”

“It’s… alright,” he responds slowly, lifting his hand and swiping some milk off his collar.  He sucks that off his fingers too.  “I very much enjoy light cream.”

Dean puts his napkins down, realizing that he’s practically groping this guy in the middle of a coffee shop.  He can see Jo crumpled against the register, wheezing as Ash shakes his head and snickers behind the counter.  Dean flushes, stepping away from the man and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I can see that.  Uh… I haven’t seen you around here before.  You new in town?”

The man blinks and nods, reaching out to take another creamer from the basket and pop the container open.  He dumps it into his cup, which is now a little more than halfway full.

“Yes, I suppose.  I’m staying with some friends right now, for the fall.  I think I’ll be moving on soon, though.”

“Yeah?  It’s a nice town.  Small, but we keep busy.  Are you here for work?”

“Well,” the man tilts his head to the side, then back again.  “I suppose I am, yes.” He doesn’t elaborate anymore, and Dean doesn’t press him for any more information because he’s not sure how to ask without coming off as a complete creeper.  He bites his lip.

“Dean Winchester,” he says, thrusting a hand out in front of him.  The guy stares at his hand for a long moment, before he cautiously reaches out and grips Dean’s hand in his own.  

“Castiel,” he says, and Dean lifts his eyebrows in surprise at the odd name, but smiles nonetheless.  Castiel smiles back easily.

“Nice to meet you, Castiel.  You want me to show you around town?”

“I think that would be enjoyable,” Castiel answers, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles.  He’s still holding Dean’s hand in his, but Dean can’t even say he minds.  Jo is staring at them from behind the counter, mouth agape, as Ash grins and nods his head in approval.  Castiel turns his head, looking back down at his cup, now completely full of creamer.  “As soon as I finish my milk.”

Dean snorts, nodding along, unable to contain his grin.  Castiel smiles back and his eyes twinkle as he looks at Dean, the brightest blue he has probably ever seen another person’s eyes glow, and he’s struck suddenly by how much they remind him of Feathers.

·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

“There’s just something about this guy,” Dean says thoughtfully, shuffling around the kitchen as he rinses and dries the dishes.  Benny groans loudly and dramatically, banging his head against the counter.  Charlie whacks him in the shoulder.

“Oh, shut up Benny. I think it’s sweet.  Dean’s got himself a cru- _ ush _ ,” she laughs and Dean turns around, flinging a dish towel at her face, which she dodges.  It lands on the floor beside the kitchen island, and Feathers pounces at it, mewing happily and chewing at the fabric.  Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t go to get it, knowing the towel is now a lost cause until the cat loses interest in it.

“You don’t understand,” Benny moans melodramatically.  “For  _ two weeks _ now it’s been nothing but ‘Cas this, Cas that’.  And they’ve only been on three dates!  I can only imagine how much worse it’s going to get…”

“Three dates already?  In two weeks?” Charlie smirks.  “You gone to second base yet? Third?”

Dean blushes and turns away, scrubbing at the dishes and pretending that the rushing water in the sink is loud enough to drown out Charlie’s laughter.  Once he’s dried his final dish he turns the faucet off, going to the stove to check on the lasagna he’s baking.  The game is going to start in about an hour, so their dinner should be ready in time for them to watch and eat in the living room at the same time.

“He’s just… he’s different.  Really interesting, smart… You should see his aura, Charlie. Brightest friggin’ blue halo around him I’ve ever seen.  It’s wicked,” he grins, a dopey smile that has Benny rolling his eyes and Charlie giggling behind her hand.  Dean doesn’t seem to notice, sighing dreamily and leaning against the kitchen counter.  “And he’s so freaking hot, too!  Sexiest fucking guy I’ve ever dated, hands down.”

“Um, excuse me,” Benny coughs, gesturing up and down his own body.  Dean rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, dude, what we did does not count as dating,” he crosses his arms over his chest as Benny scoffs.  “One Tinder meet-up that turned into us renting an apartment together and not even  _ fucking  _ does not count as a date.”

“But we made out, don’t you remember that?” Benny argues, crossing his own arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow at Dean.  He opens his mouth to respond, but then the oven beeps alerting him that the lasagna is done.  Meanwhile, Benny yelps when suddenly Feathers lunges at his leg, digging his claws into Benny’s knee right where his gym shorts end and dragging his sharp nails all the way down his leg, to his shin.  

“Hey, hey, bad boy!” Benny hisses in pain, trying to shake the cat off of his leg.  Feathers hisses and swats at his hands, yowling and growling even as Dean suddenly turns around and scoops him up.

“What did I tell you about this little shit?  We’ve got to get him declawed,” Dean snaps, carrying the cat out of the room and into Benny’s bedroom, where his food bowl and litter box are.  He drops the cat into the middle of Benny’s bed, ignoring the sad mewling and pathetic scratching at the door as he trudges back down the hallway and into the kitchen.  Charlie is helping Benny wipe the blood off his leg, sticking little Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles band-aids to the afflicted areas.  Charlie raises an eyebrow judgmentally at Dean as she holds up the band-aids box, and he purses his lips, shrugging. So, Dean saw them at the store and thought they were cute.  Sue him.

·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

The weird thing is how, when Castiel comes to the apartment, Feathers doesn’t seem to come around.  At first, Dean is grateful for it, because as much as the little guy has grown on him in the past month he’s still allergic and for him, the less contact with the cat, the better.  But then, it starts to feel weird, because Feathers is always there to greet Dean at the door when he comes home, but when Castiel is with him, Feathers is nowhere to be found.

“Weird,” Dean mutters one day, checking under the couch (where Feathers has been known to hide occasionally, and swat at Dean and Benny’s ankles as they walk by).  Castiel is sitting beside him on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on top of his lap and a glass of milk sitting on a coaster on the coffee table in front of them.  The dude has a freaking addiction to the shit.

“What is it?” he asks, turning his attention away from the television and looking curiously at Dean.  He shakes his head.

“I wanted you to meet my cat.  Well, I mean, my roommate’s cat.  But I kind of pay for half his food, so I guess he’s half my cat too,” Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking around.  “He’s usually really affectionate, but I guess he must be scared of strangers?  Because he never comes around when you’re here.”

“Oh,” The expression on Castiel’s face is unreadable, but he looks almost like somebody punched him in the gut.  He licks his lips.  “I didn’t think you liked cats,” he whispers.  Dean shrugs.

“Not generally speaking,” he admits, trying to remember when he told Castiel that, “I’m allergic, so I usually avoid them.  But I think this little guy’s kind of grown on me.  Benny took him in at the beginning of the month ‘cuz he was scared some freak would gut him, him being a black cat and all,” he rolls his eyes, not noticing the way that Castiel cringes.  “Honestly I think it was just an excuse for him to get a pet. But he’s a sweet cat.  I think I’ll even let Benny keep him after the month is up.”

“Really?” Cas asks, and he looks really excited by the prospect.  Dean chuckles, nodding.

“Yeah.  And then maybe you’ll be able to meet him before you’ve got to split town.” Dean says, then frowns a little.  “Which, uh… When are you going, exactly?”

Castiel swallows, coughing a little and looking away.  “I don’t know, really.  I think, actually… I might stay.  A little while longer, at least,” he smiles shyly, then, looking up at Dean with those brilliant blue eyes.  “I found something in town that I think is worth staying for.”

Dean smiles, leaning forward and capturing Castiel’s mouth in a slow, sweet kiss.  The man reaches out to cup Dean’s face, dragging his fingers over Dean’s stubble and then around the back of his neg, tangling into his short blonde hair.  Dean gasps and leans forward, pushing Castiel back onto the couch cushions and letting his hands slide up under the shirt.  Castiel stretches, letting out a content noise and opening his mouth for Dean’s tongue.  His fingers scratch against Dean’s scalp, a soothing feeling, and they lie there making out until benny comes home from work and shouts at them to go get a room.

After Castiel has left for the night, Feathers finally comes out from wherever his hiding spot was, and hops up on Dean’s bed to cuddle up with him for the night.  Dean doesn’t even kick him out this time.

·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

“So what did you think?” Dean asks, popping the tab on a beer and passing it to Sam.  They’ve just gotten home from dinner with Castiel, at some fancy restaurant on the other side of the town.  All of the waiters and waitresses at the restaurant are professionally trained culinary witches, so your meals are served to you on floating trays and the menu is filled with all sorts of fancy items and potions.  

“Think what?”

“What did you think of Cas?” Dean repeats, giving Sam an expression that screams, “Duh, what did you think I was talking about?”  Sam shrugs, sipping at his beer and making a quiet humming sound.

“I dunno.  He was cool.  Kind of weird, honestly.  But I think he’s nice enough.”

Dean frowns.  “ _ Just  _ nice enough?  You didn’t like him?”

“No, it’s not that,” Sam says quickly, picking at the label of his beer bottle.  “He’s an awesome guy and I can tell you’re totally head over heels for him, so he must be a really nice guy when you get to know him.  But he’s just… odd.  I mean, did you see the way he was eating his fish?  And when he spilled his soda on himself and licked it off his hands?  He was licking himself for like… almost ten minutes.”

Dean purses his lips, cheeks flaming suddenly.  “I thought it was cute,” he mutters.  Sam snorts.

“Yeah, maybe if he was a cat.” Sam brings his beer back to his lips, glancing down at the kitchen floor where Feathers is playing with a clove of garlic that must have fallen on the floor.  He chuckles a little and turns his attention back to Dean, who is frowning and staring down at his beer bottle.  He sighs.  “Look, I’m not saying I don’t like the guy.  He’s just got some mannerisms that are… very catlike.  I mean, is he a familiar or something?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, still staring down at his beer bottle but not taking a sip yet.  “No, he’s never said anything about being a familiar.”

“Oh, well, maybe he’s just a little odd then.  It’s okay, Dean.  i know he makes you happy and I think you two are a great couple.”

“Yeah…” Dean frowns, glancing down at Feathers, who is now tearing at the skin of the garlic clove, sneezing when the pungent flavor if it hits his tongue. He bends down and snatches the clove away from him, tossing it in the trash.  Feathers  _ mewls  _ and looks up at him with those big, alabaster blue eyes, and Dean finds himself frowning, deep in thought.  Sam coughs.

“You okay there?”

“Just thinking,” He says slowly, taking a careful sip of his beer and not looking away from Feathers.  The cat continues to stare back at him, unblinking, and Dean shakes his head.  “It’s just… Feathers didn’t run and hide when you came to the apartment.  Or when Charlie came here, either, for that matter.”

“Uh, yeah, so?  Why, does he hide when it’s just you?  Because you haven’t exactly been the kindest to him…”

“No, it’s not… he’s actually really affectionate with me when we’re alone.  It’s just…,” Dean huffs and shakes his head, turning away from the cat finally and taking a long sip from his beer bottle.  He shrugs.  “Nevermind.  I must be going insane.”

Sam smirks.  “Well, I could have told you that years ago.”

Dean scowls, reaching out to punch his brother in the chest.  Sam just laughs in response, and Dean chugs at his beer, burping in his face when he’s done.  Sam scowls, disgusted.

“You’re fucking gross as hell, jerk.”

Dean grins.  “Bitch.”

·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•

“Happy Halloween!” Benny calls, cradling Feathers in his arms as he walks down the hallway towards the kitchen,  The cat is adorned in a cute candy corn costume, and if cats could scowl Dean is pretty sure Feathers would be wearing a very mean bitch face right now.  Dean snorts when he sees them, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the coffee machine.  He scowls when he reaches out to grab the creamer and finds the carton empty, again.

“You know, man, you could warn me when you use up all the creamer,” he complains.  Benny lifts an eyebrow.

“Brother, it ain’t me.  S’Probably that boyfriend of yours; guy drinks milk like it’s crack.”

“It’s not Cas.  He’s never stayed over long enough to warrant us making a pot of coffee, and I really don’t think he’s sneaking into the kitchen to steal our creamer when he’s here.”

“You mean he hasn’t ever stayed the night?” Benny drawls, raising a skeptical brow at Dean.  The man shrugs.

“We’re taking things slow.  I mean, we’ve gotten off together before, but it’s never really escalated further than a little…,” Dean makes a lewd gesture that Benny figures is meant to symbolize two men rubbing against each other.  He feigns gagging, and Dean smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.  “Yeah, blowjobs have been good too.  Turns out Cas is  _ very  _ sensitive--”

“Please, stop talking.” Benny asks.  Feathers hops out of his arms and darts out of the room, and Benny shoulders Dean out of the way so that he can make his own cup of (creamer free) coffee.

“You got any Halloween plans with that boy of yours, anyway?”   


“I don’t know,” Dean sighs.  “The shop is always busy on Halloween.  I think I’m going to stay open late.  Maybe invite him over to keep me company,” Dean grins.  “Some midnight nookie, maybe.”

Benny rolls his eyes.  “You gotta cheapen every moment, don’t you, brother?”

Dean grins wolfishly.  “Yup!”

The shop is especially busy at this time of year in general, but on Halloween, in particular, everybody in the world seems to think they should dabble in magicks, so Dean is busy with customers all day long.  Everybody wants to try their hand at charm casting and potion making, it seems, and by two o’clock Dean’s supply of blowfly and peppermint is running especially low.  He’s going to have to put in another order to his supplier on Monday morning.

When Castiel walks through the doors at six o’clock with a greasy bag of hamburgers and a smile on his face, Dean is just starting to close up for the day.  He greets Cas with a kiss on the lips and promises he’ll only be a few more minutes while he counts the money and locks up the register for the day.  Castiel nods and goes to explore the store, though it’s small, and Dean busies himself with completing his task as his stomach growls at the tantalizing smell of hamburgers and french fries.

“Hey baby, there’s some paper plates and soda cans in the fridge in the back, if you want to grab them for us,” Dean calls out as he counts out the one dollar bills and organizes them meticulously.  He hears Castiel call an affirmative response from somewhere in the store, and a few seconds later he hears the door to the back room creaking open.

He closes up the register a few minutes later, grabbing the fast food bag off the counter from where Castiel had left it and heading to the back.

“Yo, Cas, so listen to this.  Some crazy lady came in today with her-- woah.” Dean stops in the doorway, staring in shock at the cat he finds perched on top of the mini-fridge he keeps in the back room.  His mouth drops open in surprise, and upon further inspection of the feline, Dean finds his brow furrowing in confusion.  “Wait, Feathers?  How the fu--” he spins around, suddenly aware that Castiel isn’t in the room.  “Cas?” He frowns, taking a few steps over to Feathers and stroking his back.  He looks around again.  “Haha, Cas, very funny Halloween prank.  So original.  You can come out now, joke’s over.”

When his words garner no response still, Dean frowns and steps away from feathers, heading back into the main storefront.  “Cas?  Baby?”

Suddenly there’s a loud  _ thump _ from the back room, and when Dean cautiously steps back into the room again, it’s to find his boyfriend lying flat on the floor beside the mini-fridge, groaning and rubbing at his head.  Feather has vanished again, gone from his perch on top of the fridge.  Castiel slowly sits up, a small frown on his handsome face as he cradles his skull in his palm.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he grinds out, standing slowly and leaning against the fridge as he regains his balance. “It becomes difficult on Halloween… all this excess spirit energy and ethereal interference floating around, and with nowhere for me to channel it… I sometimes lose control of my transformations.”

Dean blinks hard, staring at Castiel’s face in an attempt to determine if he’s actually being serious right now.  After what is probably the longest awkward silence in his life Dean whispers, dumbly, “Your transformations?”

Castiel nods, chewing nervously at his bottom lip.  “Yes, I-- I am a familiar, Dean.  I’m your familiar, actually, if we’re going to be specific.”

“Umm…”

“I know I was wrong to keep it from you like I did.  After I discovered how much you disdain cats, I meant to just stay with you and Benny until the end of October and then I was going to leave.  This time of year actually is very dangerous for my kind, and your roommate and you have been most kind to take care of me these few weeks,” he pauses now, taking a breath and licking his lips.  “I also developed quite a fondness of your coffee creamer, and I’ve never been one to deny myself a good cup of milk.”

Dean’s mouth drops open.  “So that  _ was  _ all along drinking my creamer?  You bastard!  I’ve been drinking my coffee without milk for  _ weeks  _ because of you.”

“But then,” Castiel continues on, looking away from Dean and now refusing to meet his eyes, “at the cafe… I couldn’t resist when you offered to spend more time together.  I’m drawn to you, naturally; you’re my witch,” there are tears in Cas’s eyes now, Dean realizes, and his voice cracks a little bit as he continues, “and I’ve fallen so  _ in love with you _ , Dean… This past month has been so amazing for me, and I’m sorry.” He’s really crying now, covering his face up with his hands as he hiccups.  “I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey, hold up there, Cas.  Just hold up,” Dean sticks his hands up in the air in an attempt to calm Castiel down, and his palms come to rest on either side of his boyfriend’s hips.  Castiel makes a quiet noise and ducks his head, pressing his face to Dean’s chest and gripping tightly at his shirt.  Dean sighs, throat working around difficult words even as he strokes his hands comfortingly up and down Cas’s back.  “I love you too, baby.  Fuck, I’ve fallen for you so hard…” he snorts, shaking his head and letting his forehead knock against Castiel’s when the other man looks up at his face.  He draws in a labored breath, squeezing his own eyes shut so that he doesn’t have to look at Cas’s face.  “But I’m not your witch.  You must’ve made some mistake, Cas… ‘cuz I’m not.  I’m not a witch,  _ period _ , it’s why I run this crappy little shop and sell supplies to  _ real  _ witches and mages… I dropped out of school because I couldn’t do even the most basic spellwork.  I just don’t have the gene,” he takes a deep breath, finally opening his eyes and daring himself to look at Castiel’s face.  He swallows thickly.  “I’m sorry.”

Castiel frowns, shaking his head.  “No, Dean… You’re definitely a witch.  You’re my witch.  I can feel it.”

“Then what you feel is wrong,” Dean retorts, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.  “I  _ can’t  _ do magicks.  Ask Sam, Benny, Charlie… that’s how it’s been my whole life.  Teachers gave up on me in third grade when I couldn’t even cast a luminous spell.  I’m a lost cause for a witch, Cas.”

“No,” Castiel responds, shaking his head.  Dean huffs, frustrated, and goes to pull away from their embrace.  If Castiel isn’t even going to listen to him… But then Castiel is reaching out, long, deft fingers curling around his wrist and pulling him back in.  He traces over the creases on Dean’s palm, up along his list and the dark veins along the inside of his arm.

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t do spellwork,” Castiel says softly.  “Magick doesn’t come from a textbook.  It comes from your heart,” Castiel’s hand slides up his arm, along his chest to rest over his heart.  “And you, Dean Winchester, have a  _ lot  _ of heart.”  He smiles up at Dean, then, leading him out into the storefront and gesturing to the jack-o-lantern sitting on the counter.  Dean frowns, not understanding, and after a few seconds Castiel lets out an aggravated huff and reaches inside of the pumpkin, producing an unlit tea candle.  He slaps it onto the counter in front of Dean.

“Light it.”

“Cas…,” Dean mumbles, but he reaches for the candle, turning it over and over in the palm of his hand.  He touches the wick, dry and cool to the touch, and frowns in concentration.  He feels Castiel slide an arm around his side, slipping his fingers under Dean’s loose tee-shirt and curling his hand around Dean’s hips.  His fingers are warm, and it helps Dean concentrate on the idea of making the candle warm, making it set on fire…

The wick catches so suddenly Dean nearly drops the candle onto the floor, flame swallowing up the wick in a flash of blue and red and orange.  He gasps, cheering triumphantly and turning to gape at Cas, the candle still held aloft in his hand.

“No way!  You did that.” He gasps.  Castiel smiles and shakes his head, leaning in to give Dean a kiss on his cheek.

“Nope.  That was all you.”

“Oh, baby…” He whispers, looking on at Cas in wonder as his lips curl into a delighted smile.  “Am I really a witch?  You’re really my familiar?”

“Really,” Castiel promises, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and leaning in for a slow, sweet kiss.  Dean finally lets go of the candle, letting it clatter to the floor as he wraps Castiel up in his arms and kisses him hard.  When they finally break apart, Castiel smiles against Dean’s lips, whispering, “I love you.”

Dean grins, and laughs.  “Yeah, and I’m not sure why, you fuckin’ weirdo.” he’s grinning so wide it’s making his lips hurt.  He kisses Castiel again and squeezes him tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone in his life.  Their foreheads knock together, and Dean presses their lips against each other’s carefully as he whispers, “I love you, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus Scene 1:  
> Dean: oh my god...  
> Dean: *runs to bathroom to rinse with listerine*  
> Cas: what is it?  
> Dean: you had a dead fucking bird in your mouth! and you kissed me!  
> Cas: oh  
> Cas: ...  
> Cas: ...  
> Cas: that bird had it coming
> 
> Bonus Scene 2:  
> Dean: *lets out a final moan and rolls off of Cas to catch his breath after his orgasm*  
> Castiel: *cuddles into Dean's side and closes his eyes*  
> Dean: *smiles and cards his fingers through Castiel's hair, fingers dragging over his scalp*  
> Dean: ...  
> Dean: are you fucking purring?  
> Castiel: shhh... just let it happen
> 
> Bonus Scene 3:
> 
> Benny: wait, so... Feathers is actually Castiel? And he's your familiar?  
> Dean: yeah, that's about the jist of it  
> Benny: so he's a human... and a cat... at the same time  
> Dean: uh, sure? why so many questions  
> Benny: just wondering something  
> *3 HOURS LATER*  
> Benny: *rifling through kitchen drawer*  
> Cas: *enters the kitchen to get some milk from the fridge* what're you doing?"  
> Benny: oh, nothing...  
> Benny: *whips out a LASER POINTER*  
> Cas: oh no... Benny please...  
> Benny: *flicks laser on*  
> Cas: *explodes*


End file.
